Detachment

For longer than I care to admit, Buddhism seemed to me like a somewhat depressing religion. Life is suffering, and unless you can train your mind to not hold on to any sort of attachments, and learn accept the whole of everything as it is, suffering is all there is.

As I learned more about it, I began to feel more of a draw to Buddhism because the reverence for life, commitment to non-violence -and at some level the idea of karma- fit well with some of the Pagan beliefs that had become meaningful in my life. On top of that, seated meditation looked so peaceful, and the idea of feeling a certain peace rather than a constant barrage of feelings, emotions, thoughts, and inner dialogue sounded like the magic cure for all unhappiness. The idea that this could come from a belief that began with “life is suffering” fascinated me.

Indeed, the first of the Four Noble Truths of Buddhism is the Truth of suffering, or that suffering exists. The interesting thing is, those are translations, and the English language doesn’t always have words to describe concepts for which most Westerners have no cultural reference.  This is the case with the word “suffering” in the Noble Truths. The Sanskrit and Pali term used is Dukkha, which has no single equivalent in English. The most commonly used of course is “suffering”, but other corresponding English words are: uneasy, dissatisfaction, unhappiness, stress, and frustration. Once I learned that, I had to agree, suffering is everywhere. Dukkha happens.

Meditation seems easy enough, right? You just sit there and allow thoughts to come and go. It’s the practice that teaches calming of the mind, and it is the ultimate in “don’t judge a book by its cover” examples. It may look like peaceful sitting, but if you haven’t tried it, let me tell you- It’s HARD! No matter what I’m sitting on, my legs ache, my back gets sore, and it’s the only time that I ever think that maybe I might need a little more “junk in my trunk”.

And that’s just the physical aspect- the real work is going on inside. Buddhists often compare the mind to a monkey- constantly chattering and hopping around from branch to branch, topic to topic- sometimes completely zoning out and at others obsessing over this or that. Meditation calms the monkey mind by making it one-pointed rather than scattered and distracted. This comparison really helped me understand the need for meditation… but I have to say that trying to tame my mind still feels a little bit like trying to dress a cat.

This is not to say that I have not had moments of inner peace; however, in order to recognize them, I needed to really think about what inner peace might even feel like. At one time I thought that feeling inner peace meant the ability to block out the rest of the world- all of the activity and chaos and the extremes of pain and pleasure. That experiencing peace meant separation from the rest of the world in some way.

But I’ve come to realize that peace can be felt at any time- it’s more about being fully present in the moment; not thinking about that presentation coming up, or that project deadline that just slipped by, or what to make for dinner… but for just a few moments absorbing the smell of the breeze after it rains, or noticing the hundreds of shades of purple in the sky at twilight, or allowing the joy of time with a loved one to draw tears.

It’s about accepting this life and all of its aspects as life. The ideas of “good” and “bad” become far too subjective to be of any practical use. In other words, things aren’t intrinsically good or bad, those are judgments based on perspective. Immediately following the attacks of 9/11, I received numerous emails containing stories of people who should have been at work in one of the towers that morning, but because they missed the train, or couldn’t find an important paper, or because one of the kids couldn’t seem to get his shoes tied- they weren’t at the office when the planes struck. Any other day, those delays might have been contributed to a “bad” morning.

 I have a digital postcard that helps me put things into perspective. It’s a picture of a boy sitting atop a pile of books. The message says “whenever work starts to feel overwhelming, just remember that you’re going to die.” I attempted one day to share this idea with a co-worker, and the reaction was certainly not one of feeling comfort. She said it sounded so depressing. So I put some different words around the idea- “whatever happens today, whatever you don’t get done, or whatever doesn’t go as well as you’d hoped, nuclear subs are not sinking because of it.” This gave her the perspective she needed to “stop sweating the small stuff”, and to realize that it’s pretty much all small stuff.

Buddha’s stories teach that change is the nature of everything and is one of the few indisputable constants in life. By definition it is movement from the known to the unknown, and as humans, we tend to fear the unknown, making us resistant. but the fact is that change will happen no matter what we do- Buddhist stories teach that accepting this is key on the path to enlightenment.

The biggest struggle I have with allowing change is that sometimes- ok often- I think that I like things the way they are. I’m fine with change, as long as things mostly stay the same. Turns out Buddha had a suggestion of how to deal with that, too.

Let go of this idea that anything ever even mostly stays the same. Everything changes, sometimes in ways that are visible, sometimes in ways that are not. Everything changes, and because everything is interconnected, I will change and I will be changed.

Letting go is also an idea that I misunderstood for some time. I interpreted this idea of detachment as a disconnection, or somewhat of a creation of numbness. But what I’ve found is that detachment can allow for more moments of peace. I’m more able to be fully present when I’m not attached to expectations of what the next moment may or may not bring. I’m more able to adapt to change if I’m not tied judgments about if the change is good or bad. I’m happier when I don’t dwell on the misfortunes of the past. I’ve been able to calm myself from nearly overwhelming emotions by letting go of the emotions, seeing them as part of me for the moment, but not defining who I am. When I do this, I’m able to allow myself to be amazed that my mind is capable of creating such intense experiences. It’s not easy, but just trying seems to help suck the momentum from some of the emotional thrill rides of a high-stress job, two kids, and life in general. Detachment is knowing when to let go.  

 Originally delivered 5.2011 at the Unitarian Fellowship of Lawrence